the spit in my mouth is still 99% not mine.
It's the foolproof way to identify who didn't get laid last night
My wrist bandage is guacamole stained. What an accurate representation of my life as a whole
To this day, he introduces me as "the girl I met climbing trees at 3 A.M."
I never thought I'd say this, but there is a life threatening amount of rumpleminz in our freezer
i had to take off my light up shamrock necklaces, my professor was getting suspicious.
She keeps sending, "show me your elephant trunk."
It was a deal breaker when she told me not to wear a condom and god would decide if we were meant to be together.
They fucked on my pong table last St. Patty's and broke it. I feel like I should be hiding my new one. Would hate for a tradition to form.
I KNEW IT. I HAD A FEELING. THIS IS GODS CURSE. BREAK UP WITH A SEX GOD. GET ONE OF HIS PEASANTS.
She stumbled into class and Google image searched nipple piercings for the entire 75 minutes
That feeling when you're ready to convert to the religion of whatever god will stop the vomit. Dynamite is illegal.
I'm not allowed to have sex with him again. My vagina joined in on the protest. There was a petition. All my body parts signed it.
I caught a glimpse of his penis. I can only imagine what your mom's vagina goes through because of that penis
Last night was a bad idea. I'm hungover and the contents of my purse smell like Korean BBQ.
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